


forgetting

by cozystanlon



Category: IT (2017), IT (2019), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Sad sad sad, it’s pretty sad i’m sorry, ships are pretty vague but are mentioned, stan just missed his buddies, they all had to leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 13:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18605950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozystanlon/pseuds/cozystanlon
Summary: stanley feels himself forgetting the only people he’s ever truly loved... and he can’t stand it.





	forgetting

i feel myself beginning to forget. it’s been a long time coming, waiting in the dark corner of my bedroom like a phantom, finally emerging like it’s late to the party. it happened to her first. the letters became less frequent and the calls became more distant until the day neither came any more. because of that, we lost him long before he left. he loved her and it broke him entirely, he was next to go. as the clasp of childhood let us go we turned to ways to cope. drinking and smoking made us forget to remember, perhaps a taste of what is to come. 

six boys who missed her became five boys who missed them. when five became four we realised that holding on to the moments and memories that once created us will cease to work. we fade as soon as we leave, taking whatever broken parts are left after the wreck that left us scarred in more ways than one. four without our leader struggled. but in struggle we fell into stupidity, did things to make it easier. love seemed to hold us together for a little longer that what was planned for us. but the darkness under the city could not be contained. even through it’s rejuvenating slumber, the darkness still had strings to puppet our lives. torn. torn away by his mother as four turned to three, he did not go quietly. by then we knew there was no use in meaningless promises to keep in touch. we had no choice in that matter. the smallest was ripped away, with him he took the light within our brightest hope. as the thick glasses flew after that license plate for half a mile, we saw the very spirit leave his body in a tidal wave of tears and silence. i wasn’t used to seeing him silent. my best friend and his name still slips my mind sometimes. 

it was not the same after that. i felt myself fall apart as the days rolled by. i never thought it possible for broken things to be broken further, i was wrong. three minds plagued with the question of “who’s next?” did their best to peel back the shattered glass of pain and help each other heal. the nights became long and days seemed to be a constant reminder of the short time we still had together. as the minute hand gripped onto the second hand, time flew by until we reached the end of our education. the broken spirit found a way out in cigarettes and vodka, but it wasn’t enough for me and the other remaining. stolen by the city of angels, three finally became two. 

the death grip around my throat disguised as life sent a letter of acceptance and finalised my fate. he couldn’t come with me. he was left with the task of being our lighthouse. i used to believe that love and life were two forces intertwined together in an endless cycle, pushing and pulling to grant us some glimmer of hope that everything may one day be okay. i was wrong. life works against love. but we cannot sit idly and wait for the darkness to take over, life must be lived. so i turned two into one. i packed the empty vessel of myself into seven boxes and moved away. 

we floated on my final day, the two of us. just like that thing always said. we floated too. my feet barely touched the ground and in my last twenty four hours… we could do nothing but look at each other. as if the idea of taking in every fraction of him would somehow... somehow stop me from forgetting. i wrote one last letter to him. didn’t sign my name or write his, just a collection of words laid down in an order to remind him of how much he is loved and how he must keep going despite everything. 

now i cannot understand the capacity of my own head to forget the six people who gave me a life and a home. the scars are fading, i wonder if that happened for the others? if any of them remember my name still? who wore the glasses? who loved the girl? someone had asthma…. one of them definitely had asthma. 

it’s lonely here. maybe they all felt like that? i wish i could forget all at once, simply open my eyes one day and have them all gone. the constant loss of the little details that are drawn from me like blood, pinpricks of unending, exasperating agony which seek vengeance on what’s left of me. it’s my fault for forgetting. why can’t i fucking remember? 

i fear that this is the last time i write about them. letter number twenty-three and i doubt a twenty-fourth will come. so for the last time i will say it and sign off. my name is stanley uris. i am sorry and i miss my friends, that’s all i can tell you because that’s all i know. i am grown now, and this is the last time i bask in what was and what has ended. it’s all ended… for now.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u 4 reading ahhhh okay i don’t rlly have much to say here but !! thanks


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